


Night, Love You

by howelllesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Children, Fluff, Grief, M/M, Marriage, Romance, Teenagers, it is implied and not in detail but it's there, it's in sections and the beginning notes have warnings for each sections, minor alcohol mention, so you can skip them and it'll still make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: Based on this phanfic.tumblr.com prompt, ‘saying goodnight through the years’.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A list of warnings by section so you can just skip that if you want (it’ll still make sense); mmxv - alcohol (but not abuse of); mmxxi - child; mmlxxix - mention of character death.

_mmix_

He can feel his eyes drooping, but he’s so determined not to go to sleep yet. This is the first time that Phil has video called him, and Dan’s afraid that once it ends, it might not happen again, and that just wouldn’t be acceptable.

A small part of him wonders if Phil’s actually forgotten he’s there, because he’s gone quiet and he’s concentrating on something on his screen, but Dan finds it impossible to focus on anything but the blurry outline of his favourite person on his laptop screen.

Dan can’t quite believe that this is happening, and he really doesn’t care that it’s gone three in the morning, and he’s had to whisper for the last few hours so his parents don’t hear, and he’s got to be awake in four hours, because Phil is right there, sat at a screen with Dan’s face on too.

Except maybe not because Dan can see his eyes darting back and forth like he’s reading something. Dan tries not to let it bother him because he should be grateful that Phil’s doing this in the first place, and of course he has priorities other than Dan.

“Dan, go to bed,” Phil says softly, making him jump.

Dan blinks at him, having not even realised that Phil had turned his attention back to the younger boy, then shakes his head.

“I’m fine, I’m not tired.”

The biggest yawn ever betrays him, and Phil chuckles softly.

“Whatever you say. Go on, go to bed, I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Really?” Dan asks, half-hopefully, half-fearfully. He knows he sounds a bit pathetic but that’s just a summary of his life really, nothing new there.

“Really really,” Phil reassures him. “I’m in all day, so if you want, we can do this again? Just tell me when you’re online.”

Dan grins at the prospect of video chatting with him again in less than twenty four hours.

“Okay,” he says softly, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into his voice as he can. “See you tomorrow. Night, Phil.”

“Night, Dan,” Phil smiles, giving him an awkward wave before ending the call.

Dan doesn’t get to sleep for another half hour, because he’s smiling too much, and he kind of wants a goodnight from Phil every night, but he can’t get his hopes up too much. Maybe a little though.

_mmxii_

The atmosphere in the room is near unbearable, and Dan’s hoping Phil retires to bed sooner rather than later. He always stays up longer than his boyfriend - he winces at the word internally, their relationship currently hanging by a thread - but at this rate even he’s willing to sacrifice a night on the internet to escape this godawful tension.

“Going to bed,” Phil announces five minutes later, standing up with his empty cereal bowl and setting it on the kitchen counter. “Night.”

“Night,” Dan mutters, not really glancing up from his laptop screen, mouth twitching into what is meant to be a smile.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Phil says, but the usual mix of concern and condescension is a long way off tonight, the same way it has been for a while now. Instead, his voice is just a bit flat, like he’s saying it because he feels like he should, and not because he actually means it anymore.

“Won’t,” is Dan’s stock answer, and they both know it’s probably a lie.

Hours later, Dan crawls into bed next to Phil, and the metre of space he leaves between them may as well be an ocean.

He burrows his face into the pillow, wondering where it all went wrong in the first place, and how the hell he was going to fix it, if he wanted to fix it at all. The troubling thoughts sent him into another night of restless sleep, nightmares tumbling over each other in his head until dawn breaks again, and Phil’s already left the bed again, and the frost settles again.

_mmxv_

Dan bites his lip as the front door slams behind him, eyes comically wide.

“Whoops,” he thinks he whispers, his voice louder than its normal tone. “Shut up, Dan.”

Phil is asleep and the last time Dan got home after having a tiny, tiny bit to drink, he accidentally walked into one of Phil’s house plants and woke him up, and he doesn’t want to do that again. Phil was a tiny, tiny bit angry, and angry Phil was no fun at all. At all.

Tiptoeing into the lounge, Dan thinks he might just make himself a quick snack, because he’s really very hungry and no one wanted to stop and get a takeaway on the walk home. A pizza is quite tempting, but the prospect of having to wait for it to cook in the oven is too overwhelming, and Dan settles for toast. Maybe he can have cheese on toast with ketchup and it’ll be just like pizza, maybe better.

He goes in search of bread and cheese, and maybe a plate wouldn’t be a bad idea either, but as he reaches for the cupboard where they store all of that sort of stuff, Dan nudges the mug tree with his elbow.

A plain white mug - thank god - goes crashing to the floor spectacularly, splintering into at least a million pieces, and Dan just stares at it in fear, not entirely sure of what to do. There’s a thud from down the hall, and he presses a hand to his mouth; he’s woken Phil up.

Slowly his flatmate edges into the kitchen, looking hesitant and afraid.

“Oh, phew,” Phil laughs, hand on his heart as he sees Dan stood amongst the smashed china remains. “Thought we were being burgled.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dan whispers, though he’s not sure why he’s whispering anymore because Phil is right there, stood in front of him, awake. “Were you asleep?”

“No, I was editing,” Phil says, beginning to smile. “Bit of a late one. Have a good night?”

“I dropped my lollipop,” Dan says sadly, as if this tragic event had overshadowed the rest of the fun they’d had.

“What a nightmare,” Phil consoles him, holding his hands out for Dan to take and pulling him out of the mess he’d created. “Poor you.”

“I’m sorry about the mug,” Dan says, traipsing through the pieces of it. “Oh, and I’ve burnt the toast.”

Phil nods at him; oddly enough, he can in fact smell that.

“Do you still want toast?” Phil asks kindly, setting Dan down on the sofa. Dan ponders this for an inordinately long time.

“No,” he finally settles on. “No, I don’t. I wanted takeaway but no one else wanted to get it, and I said to them that yolo, you’ll be wanting pizza when you’re dead, but they wouldn’t listen.”

Dan sounds genuinely upset at his friends not listening to such wise words, and Phil’s trying desperately hard not to laugh as he goes about sweeping up the broken mug.

“Do you think you’ll miss pizza when you’re dead?” Dan asks curiously. “Do you think you can still eat when you’re dead? What if there really is nothing? What if you just die and that’s it? There’s nothing else, and you don’t get to carry on with some other life, it’s just eternal blackness.”

Phil bags up the china shards and dumps them in the bin before hurrying over to Dan again.

“I don’t think either of us needs a drunken existential crisis tonight, babe,” he says gently, standing before him and offering a hand to help him up. “Maybe we should just go to bed, talk about it in the morning.”

“Bed sounds good,” Dan says solemnly, and Phil nods at him, before gently forcing him into the bathroom and grabbing a glass of water ready for the morning. Hungover Dan is the stuff of nightmares, and he doesn’t want to have to get out of bed when he inevitably starts moaning upon waking.

Phil’s already tucked up when Dan stumbles back into the room, deciding that editing could wait until tomorrow too. After reminding his boyfriend to remove his shoes too, Phil lifts the cover up for Dan to snuggle into. It takes all of a second for Dan to sprawl across him and close his eyes.

“Night, you idiot,” Phil whispers to him softly, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Dan sleepily kisses his chest, and then he’s out like a light.

_mmxviii_

He’s sat in a heap on the floor, legs and arms tangled up as he tries to hold himself together.

The moon is too bright and his thoughts are too loud, and he’s so tired and he’s going to look horrible tomorrow but he can’t get to sleep.

Fiddling with the single ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, Dan tries to remind himself that tomorrow, another one is going to join it, and that’s for a reason. Phil loves him, and he’s going to be there, and he’s going to be expecting his husband-to-be to look refreshed and excited, and not a nervous wreck.

Still, after nearly ten years together, Dan still doesn’t quite believe it at times; he’s still waiting for someone to jump out at him and start laughing, tell him all about the epic prank they’ve been pulling on him, because no way can this actually be real.

Before he really knows what’s happening, Dan’s breathing is a little off, and the mean thoughts chasing each other round his head are getting out of hand.

What if Phil looks like he doesn’t want to be there? What if Phil looks like he regrets everything? What if he’s not there at all? What if Dan screws up somehow and everyone laughs and Phil just gives him that familiar look of despair but this time it’s kind of exasperated as well, and he just gives up on him.

Dan shakes his head, trying not to think about all of this. Phil is probably fast asleep in the room next door, just happily dreaming about tomorrow. There is no need for Dan to be having a crisis over this.

He just really wishes he could sneak into his adjoining hotel room and cuddle up with him in bed, because to hell with tradition, he wants reassurance.

His finger hovers over Phil’s name on his phone screen. He really shouldn’t do this, because it’s probably bad luck somehow, and Phil’s excessively superstitious, and he’s going to see him in a few hours anyway, not to mention the fact he’s most likely dead to the world, but he just really, really needs someone.

Scrunching his eyes shut, Dan presses his fiancé’s name, and the phone doesn’t even get through a full ring before Phil has picked up.

He doesn’t say anything at first, can’t say anything, because what is he supposed to say?

I love you.

I wish I could see you right now.

I’m kind of having a small panic attack so please, please be there tomorrow or I think I’ll just cease to exist.

Does counting sheep ever work for you?

Phil is silent as well, and they listen to each other breathing for a while, until Phil finally says something.

“Did you know that sloths take a week to digest their food?” he whispers earnestly, and Dan giggles, the corner of his mouth pulling up of his own accord, and a few tears nearly spill down his cheeks because this man is so perfect and he can’t believe he’s going to marry him tomorrow.

“Did you know that you’re amazing?” Dan whispers back, and he doesn’t need to be able to see Phil to know that he’s smiling too.

“Clue’s in the name,” Phil says softly, and Dan rolls his eyes. “Want to meet up tomorrow?”

“Go on then,” Dan says in an offhand tone, unable to get his head round the fact that it’s been this long and he’s finally committing to a dork who’s still persistently terrible at flirting. “Anything special in mind?”

“Not really,” Phil tries to deadpan, but he chuckles at the end and Dan’s grinning again.

“I love you,” Dan murmurs.

“Night, Dan,” Phil replies, and his voice is so full of love that Dan’s stomach squirms.

Ending the call, Dan puts his phone on his bedside table and finally clambers into bed, feeling peaceful for the first time all day. He doesn’t need to worry. He doesn’t need to panic. He doesn’t need to feel anything but excitement and happiness and anticipation, and even though he’s never been good at feeling those things anyway, he thinks he can give into them enough to send him into a good night’s sleep, because when he wakes up, everything’s going to change.

And it’s going to be perfect.

_mmxxi_

Phil’s poking him in the side, and Dan can hear their daughter crying, but honestly he wants to cry too, because he’s so tired.

It’s his night though, so he stumbles out of bed, eyes half-closed, stretching and yawning as he makes his way down the landing to the nursery.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he murmurs sleepily to his baby girl, lifting her out of her cot and into his arms. He knows she doesn’t need feeding, or changing, or anything really. It’s just her favourite game to wake them up every hour or so.

Dan stands there for a few minutes, gently rocking her from side to side and trying to stay awake because Christ, he can’t drop their baby. Slowly but surely she drops off again, and he just watches her for a while, because she’s beautiful, she really is, even if she’s the reason he can’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep.

“Night, blossom,” he says softly, setting her back down and spending a little too much time making sure she’s tucked in nicely. “Give me at least an hour, yeah?”

Trudging back into their bedroom, he hears a muffled 'thanks’ from Phil’s form, and he mumbles something inaudible in response, that hopefully sounds like a 'no worries’. Collapsing under the duvet, Dan forgets he’s a thirty year old man for a moment and pushes himself close to Phil, tucking his head into his neck, and Phil wraps his arms around him, eyes still closed.

“Night,” Dan says. “See you in a few minutes.”

Phil huffs out a laugh and then they’re out like a light again, trying to catch another bit of sleep.

_mmxxvii_

“Phil, it’s three in the morning, please come to bed,” Dan whines. “We’re not twenty anymore. I’m tired.”

In four hours they’re meant to be getting up to get to the airport, and at this rate, the two of them are going to be pulling an all-nighter, which sounds less than ideal for a day travelling to Florida and then immediately hitting the parks with their two kids.

“We’ve definitely forgotten something,” Phil says, clawing at his face in a panic. He catches his glasses as he does so, and they tumble onto the bed. Dan considers stealing them, so Phil can’t see anymore and is forced to come to bed, but his husband looks a bit manic, so he reconsiders. He quite enjoys the use of his hand.

“We definitely haven’t,” Dan sighs, getting out of bed.

He pointedly climbed in an hour or so ago, but Phil hardly seemed to notice. The bedroom light is still on, beginning to burn Dan’s retinas, and three suitcases are open on the floor, with clothes and shoes and a ton of other stuff that they didn’t need scattered in them, around them, at the end of the bed, spilling out of their wardrobe.

“You’re not being much help,” Phil snaps irritably, and Dan rolls his eyes.

“No wonder we’ve only taken holidays in Europe until now,” he groans, and decides to take matters into his own hands.

Like a mini tornado, Dan whizzes round the room, making split second decisions on essential and non-essential things to pack, and then he’s kicking all of the suitcase lids closed with his foot.

“Dan!” Phil splutters, but he’s not done.

Before he can protest, Dan charges at him and they both topple onto the bed, Phil pinned beneath Dan.

“Night,” is all Dan says, splaying his arms and legs out and lying as still as possible until he can’t control himself and starts laughing.

“You’re so, heavy,” Phil says, shoving him to the side with an 'oof’.

“Talking isn’t sleeping.”

“How can you sleep, we’re going on holiday tomorrow? Today!”

“You know, most people would say that excitedly, not like it was the apocalypse. Phil, it’s going to be fine. If, for some wild reason, we have actually forgotten something, we can just buy it over there. The passports are right there, next to my phone and wallet. We’re all good.”

Phil ponders this for a moment, and Dan doesn’t move from the position Phil’s shifted him into, too tired. Then he gets up, and Dan all but howls at him.

“Relax,” Phil says, a slightly grumpiness to his voice. “I’m just switching the light off.”

“Okay,” Dan concedes. “Night.”

“Night,” Phil says dully, getting back into bed and elbowing Dan when he tries to pull him closer.

“It’s a good job we’re going to the happiest place in the world tomorrow, Jesus Christ.”

_mml_

“Stop grinning, you idiot,” Dan smiles, shaking his head at the laptop screen.

“It’s like old times,” Phil pouts, pulling his cropped, grey-speckled hair over his forehead and attempting to fashion his old fringe.

“You have a gap,” Dan informs him with a wink, and Phil just laughs.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Wow, this really is like old times.”

“Are you about to fall asleep on me then?” Phil teases.

It’s one in the morning in London, and Dan hasn’t stopped yawning for the last ten minutes.

“Shh, it’s alright for you, it’s only eight in the evening. I bet the sun hasn’t even gone down yet.”

“It’s lovely,” Phil agrees, spinning his phone around so Dan can admire the Florida landscape surrounding their house. Dan sighs wistfully - it’s not that he doesn’t love their London home equally, it’s just that he’s alone, and he doesn’t care that he’s going to turn sixty next year, home is where the heart is.

“I probably should get going to bed though,” Dan says begrudgingly. “Got a meeting at nine.”

“Do you know why being an author is ten million times better than a film producer?” Phil asks, posing him the same question he’s asked many times before.

“Because you have your own schedule and you can work when you want, blah blah blah,” Dan huffs, smiling in spite of himself. “Have fun being antisocial. I’m going to go to bed.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d fall asleep on camera,” Phil says, and he sounds genuine.

“Night, Phil,” Dan chuckles, blowing him a kiss. “Good luck with that final chapter. I want a first draft ready to read when I get home.”

“I make no promises,” he says mysteriously, and Dan’s heart leaps again, because this man can still make him feel like a teenager all these years on. “Night, Dan.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

_mmlxxix_

There’s a black pen on the kitchen side, and Dan smiles softly to himself, the familiar pang of nostalgia and a touch of grief in his heart.

“Can you believe it’s been seventy years?” he says gruffly to the air, letting out a low whistle. “Seventy years.”

Seventy years since they first met and fell in love at first sight, no matter how much they both denied it as the years went on. Nearly sixty years since they’d gotten married, and five years since Phil had passed away.

It didn’t hurt so much anymore; time healed almost everything. He could think of happy times with Phil and their children and their grandchildren without dissolving into tears, could spend five minutes by himself without spiralling into a world of darkness that he wasn’t sure he’d ever escape from.

Pictures of them had gone back up on the walls of their house, it was safe to share a memory of Phil in Dan’s presence again.

Rolling the permanent marker between his index finger and thumb, Dan flicks the lid off and gives the nib a quick sniff, instantly transported back to a gaudy bedroom with mismatched posters on the walls and a too small bed with a pillow that smelt of deodorant and comic books and _Phil_.

Dan wanders into the bedroom they used to share, getting ready to settle down for the night. The duvet is still bright green and blue, though a different design from the one they cuddled under for so many years.

“I really miss you,” Dan chokes out suddenly, turning on his side to face the empty spot beside him. He doesn’t know where the emotion has come from, but it’s suddenly strong and unrelenting, and a single hot tear splashes onto the sheet.

He can’t imagine it’ll be long though, as morbid as that thought is. His bones are weary and his heart just aches a bit too much. He’s happy, he’s been happy since the moment his idol started a conversation with him eons ago, and he thinks it’s okay to move on now. His children are scattered across the globe, one in Australia, one in the UK, one in Japan, and they’re happy too.

He’s satisfied as he closes his eyes that night, trying to dry his own tears with thoughts of how things turned out.

“Night,” he whispers to Phil’s empty pillow. “See you soon.”


End file.
